


Hold My Rum, Bro

by Ms_Starlight



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Captain Charming - Freeform, Gen, Humor, Prompt Fill, Really really ridiculous, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9170032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Starlight/pseuds/Ms_Starlight
Summary: The dwarves said it couldn't be done. No one had ever been able to sneak into Granny's without getting caught. But after a few too many drinks and a little friendly goading, David and Killian sure as hell are going to try.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill a prompt of "Captain Charming + Holding their rum (or not)

The dwarves were a bad influence.

Killian had only agreed to go out at all because Emma had insisted, saying that she had business at the sheriff station and wouldn’t be home until late anyway. She seemed reluctant to leave him alone now that he’d been miraculously returned from the dead, and he was certain her father’s sudden appearance at the front door just as she was about to walk out was no coincidence. David had claimed otherwise, full of innocence as he explained that he’d come over to invite Killian out for a drink to celebrate. Emma had all but shoved him out the door and into her father’s waiting pickup truck.

In truth, Killian appreciated the company and had even enjoyed the first thirty minutes they spent together at the Rabbit Hole, quietly sipping their drinks and discussing the small town goings-on he’d missed while he’d been gone.

Then the dwarves had arrived.

And now, way too many drinks later, Killian stood amongst them in the middle of the street in front of Granny’s, a half-filled glass still clutched in his hand as a sharp fall wind stung his flushed cheeks. At his side, David wavered on his feet.

“I’m telling you, it’s not possible,” Grumpy whispered so loud he may as well have just shouted.

“No one has ever been able to do it,” Happy added. “I bet even Stealthy would have gotten caught.”

A collective gasp erupted from the other dwarves at this blasphemy.

“What? He was good, but she’s…” He waved his arms around, gesturing wildly. “She’s _superhuman_! Like, _literally_!”

“I suspect your previous failures have much more to do with the skill of the hunters than the ears of the watchdog,” Killian scoffed.

They’d already had the same conversation back at the bar, but it bore repeating. Granny might have retained the heightened senses of a wolf, but that alone did not explain the dwarves repeated and perpetual failure to prank the old woman by sneaking into her diner to sabotage her fiercely beloved bone broth. (Another holdover of her canine nature, apparently.) The dwarves had regaled Killian and David with stories of their attempts, their tales growing more outlandish as the men got collectively more intoxicated, until Killian had suggested that he could easily accomplish the impossible and David had agreed.

(“Are you kidding? He just got out of the Underworld!” David had said with a too-hard slap to Killian’s back. “The man’s a _ghost_!”)

So here he stood, three sheets to the wind, surrounded by a bunch of drunken dwarves, and plotting the invasion of an old woman’s kitchen with his girlfriend’s father.

He was not so intoxicated that he thought this was a good idea, but also not quite sober enough to walk away.

“Do you have a plan?” David asked.

_Not really._ But that had never stopped him before.

The dwarves snickered and jostled, murmurs of both encouragement and doubt rising from within their ranks.

“I suppose I’ll figure it out as I go,” Killian replied. Then, with a deep breath to steady himself, he held out his glass to David. “Here. Hold my rum.”

David clutched the glass close to his chest and watched as Killian strode confidently toward the diner.

He’d lived in a room at Granny’s for quite some time and knew his way around the building as well as the woman’s typical routine. By this time of night, he figured she would have retired to her room to balance the day’s books. So he ducked in the side entrance, crept carefully past the door leading up to her quarters, and paused in the shadows before the diner. The door was open, the room beyond dark except for the slanted orange glow from the streetlights outside.

He peeked his head around the corner once, made sure the coast was well and truly clear, then made his way inside. The air was rich with the savory scent of Granny’s simmering broth.

Easy pickings.

A cocky impulsion drove him over to the windows, where he peered out long enough to wave at David and the dwarves.

Grumpy waved back with an ecstatic shout.

“Ah, bloody hell…” Killian muttered as the dwarf’s booming voice echoed down the street.

Behind him, footsteps clattered down a long set of stairs and a door creaked open.

With nowhere else to hide, he ducked into a booth and curled up, hoping it would be enough to conceal him.

An aggravated sigh seemed to propel Granny into the room. He heard her footsteps stop and imagined her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. (Or, alternately, a crossbow in her hand. But he hoped it was the former.) Careful not to breathe lest the leather of his jacket squeak, he waited as she moved slowly into the room.

“Leroy?”

He heard two noisy sniffs.

“I know you’re here. I can smell alcohol all over you! Come out!”

Staunchly, he held his position.

“Alright.” Her hands clapped against her thighs and she started across the room toward the counter. “I let you off with a warning last time. Told you I wasn’t going to do it again.”

Alarm bloomed in Killian’s chest as he wondered what that might mean. What kind of punishment could she have threatened the dwarf with?

A second later, he heard Granny dialing the phone.

“Hello, Emma?”

Oh no…

He shot up in his seat, hoping to cut the old lady off, but it was too late.

“I need you to come get— _Hook?!_ ”

_Bloody goddamn hell!_

Even from across the diner, he heard Emma’s voice on the other end of the line: “What? Killian? Why? Is he okay?”

Granny stared at him dumbfounded with the phone hanging loose in her hand for a second before a clatter at the front door startled them both. David stood on the other side, Killian’s half-empty glass of rum still clutched in his hand as he pounded on the glass with his other fist. Behind him, the dwarves had scattered.

“Retreat!” he heard Grumpy screaming. “Retreat!”

Meanwhile, David continued to bang at the door. “Let me in! I can explain!”

Granny glanced from David to Killian, then took a big breath and pressed the phone closer to her ear again. “Yeah. Everyone’s fine. But I think you’re going to want to get down here. Now.”

After she hung up the phone, she shuffled her way to the door and let David in with her most withering and judgmental glare.

“Whatever explanation you have, I don’t want to hear it. Sit down and wait for your ride.”

David slipped into the booth opposite Killian and they both ducked their heads, properly cowed, as she shook her head and went to check on her broth.

“Here,” David whispered once she was gone and slid the glass across the table with a smile. “Your rum.”

Killian smiled back. “Thanks, mate.”

And he meant it.

Thanks for saving his drink. For not abandoning him the moment he got caught. For crossing realms to help save his soul. For being the most steadfast friend Killian had known since his brother died.

David nodded, so much unspoken passing between them. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
